Maybe It's Just My Type: Sherlolly Appreciation Week 2016 Fics
by LadySolitaire83
Summary: A collection of fics written for Sherlolly Appreciation Week, which was held on 6 March - 12 March 2016. Each chapter contains a separate story. Please see notes at the beginning of chapters/stories for ratings and warnings.
1. Day 1

**DAY 1: CAUGHT IN THE RAIN**

 **6 March 2016**

 **Summary: Sherlock insults Molly while she's out with a man.**

 **Prompt: Caught in the Rain (Non-Canon/Headcanon)**

 **Rating: T, for references to sexual situations and some cursing**

 **I own nothing. Everything belongs to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, BBC, Steven Moffat, and Mark Gatiss. If I owned Sherlock and Molly Hooper, then there would be a lot more Sherlolly in the show. All mistakes are mine. Reviews and constructive criticism are welcome.**

* * *

Molly let out an incredulous gasp at Sherlock's words. She stared at her friend and was glad to see that he was as appalled as she was by their unexpected guest's behaviour.

"That's not a nice thing to say about Molly, innit? I think you should apologise, mate."

She took a deep breath when the man standing next to her said nothing. She smiled at her friend. "Thanks for defending me, Zach. But I've got to go. I'm so sorry." She stood, uncaring that the detective instinctively moved out of her way. "I'll call you, OK?" she said as she slipped into her coat.

"O-OK," he stammered as his eyes darted between her and Sherlock. "I'll be here till Wednesday, all right?"

She gave him a tight smile before striding towards the exit. She softly groaned when big fat raindrops greeted her the moment she stepped out of the coffee shop. _Of_ course _, because my day wasn't shitty enough, it had to rain when I didn't bring my umbrella_ , she thought to herself. Sighing, she began walking towards the bus stop.

She had not even gone a block from the coffee shop when she heard Sherlock calling her name. Rolling her eyes, she walked a little faster.

Unfortunately for her, he caught up to her within a minute. "Molly, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to––"

Her anger rising, she whirled round to face him and stopped walking, causing him to step back in fear. "Didn't mean to do what? Slut-shame me _to my face_ in front of my friend?"

Sherlock sighed and ran his hands through his wet hair. "Y-you're right. It was wrong of me to say that. Forgive me, Molly."

"Yeah, you're wrong, all right. Especially two weeks after _you_ practically begged me to sleep with you!"

"What?!" His eyes widened and glanced round as if these passing strangers could help him. "I was slightly inebriated!"

"So was I! Have you forgotten that _you_ fucking kissed me first? Honestly, I can still remember the way you _moaned_ when _you_ asked me to sleep with you."

"To which you consented! And, according to Mrs Hudson, we _both_ enjoyed it."

"But then you had the _nerve_ to tell John that it didn't mean anything! How dare you?!" She cursed herself for letting her voice break. _Where were those big fat raindrops when you needed them?_ She hoped that the abating rain could still hide the tears that were threatening to fall. "Do you have any idea how much that hurt?" Blinking back tears, she stepped up to him and looked him in the eye. "Why did you really sleep with me, Sherlock?"

He darted his eyes about, but no one was paying attention to them. He grabbed her wrist and lightly pressed a thumb against her pulse despite her attempts to release her arm from his grasp. "Do we really have to discuss this here?" he asked, lowering his voice so only she could hear him. "Can't you just come to Baker Street with me, so we can talk about this in private?"

"I don't want to go anywhere with you." She lowered her voice as well, but she kept her tone firm. "Why don't you just answer the bloody question?"

Sherlock took a deep breath. "I didn't mean for you to hear that. But I lied to John, OK? That night _meant_ something to me. I care about you very deeply, and I've wanted to sleep with you for a while." His hands rose and cupped her face. "Molly, I slept with you because I love you."

She swallowed hard. "Oh." She narrowed her eyes at him. "S-so you were… jealous?"

"Well, yeah," he admitted, which surprised her. "We slept together, yet you're going on dates with other men? I don't understand it, Molly. But it hurt me, and I lashed out before I could stop myself."

She stared at him for a few beats. "You were so jealous that you couldn't deduce that Zach had a serious boyfriend?"

He removed his hands from her face and placed them on his hips. "Your date was gay?"

"No, he's bisexual. And it wasn't even a date! It was just a friendly coffee thing!" She giggled as realisation dawned on him. "Zach and I dated in uni, but we broke up soon after I started my clinical training. And––"

"And he's in town on business––"

"And asked me to go ring-shopping with him. He's planning to propose to his boyfriend when he gets back to Dublin."

He sighed. "There's always something," he muttered. Clearing his throat, he gazed at her and gave her a tentative smile. "Do you accept my apology, Molly?"

"Actually, yeah," she replied, grinning back at him. "And I love you too, Sherlock."

Heaving a relieved sigh, he took her hand and hailed a cab with his free arm. "We're drenched. At least my flat is closer. Would you like to take a warm bath in my tub or warm each other up in my bed?"

She pulled his head down and kissed him. "Why can't we do both?"

* * *

 _Sherlock deduced Zach, but he couldn't decide what Molly's ex's sexuality was. All he saw was Molly was out with a man other than Sherlock, and he saw green._

 _So what do you think? Hate it? Like it? Love it?_


	2. Day 2

**DAY 2: VICTORIAN SHERLOLLY**

 **7 March 2016**

 **Summary:** _**The Vampire Diaries**_ **AU. Holmes pays Miss Hooper a visit to check on her after a horrifying ordeal.**

 **Prompt: Victorian Sherlolly (Non-Canon/Headcanon)**

 **Rating: T, for mild references to sexual assault and emotional abuse (trigger/content warning)**

 **A/N: This is based on Caroline Forbes's experiences (see end notes) during Season 1 of _The Vampire Diaries_ , which I've been rewatching.**

 **The fic deals with the aftermath of the ordeal. The trigger/content warnings are more to err on the side of caution than anything else.**

 **I own nothing. Everything belongs to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, BBC, Steven Moffat, and Mark Gatiss. If I owned Sherlock and Molly Hooper, then there would be a lot more Sherlolly in the show. All mistakes are mine. Reviews and constructive criticism are welcome.**

* * *

"Good morning, Mr Holmes. To what do I owe this pleasure?"

Holmes turned round from his spot by the fireplace and nodded to the young woman in greeting. Gazing at her, he was relieved to see a healthy glow on her cheeks, a happy smile on her lips, and her flawless skin. "Good morning, Miss Hooper. How do you do?"

She grinned at him as she sat down on the sofa, her hands folded demurely on her lap. "I'm doing well, Mr Holmes. Thank you for asking. How are you?"

"I'm excellent, thank you," he replied as he lowered himself to the armchair opposite her. "I would like to know how you are doing after your… ordeal. How are you feeling?"

Although she lowered her head for a moment, he could still see the flash of fear on her face. His chest tightened at the thought that she was still terrified of that loathsome creature. _I should have ended that brute's life myself_ , he thought.

She cleared her throat and looked back up. "I'm-I'm much better now. All the bruises have healed, and the bite marks are hardly visible now. I'm as healthy as a horse, according to my father."

"Good, good. Have you been experiencing nightmares about him or what he had done to you?" he asked in a gentle tone.

Swallowing hard, she slowly nodded. Her eyes welled with tears, but a few sniffles and deep breaths kept them from falling. "Y-yes, every night for the first couple of months or so. But, thankfully, I haven't had any nightmares for the last two weeks. I suppose that's a good thing. I don't think I can go to Italy anytime soon though." Moments later, she tucked strands of errant auburn hair behind her ear and gave him a bashful smile. "Mr Holmes, I-I was actually about to write you a note to, uh, thank you for helping to rescue me from his-his torment. But, since you're already here…" She sighed and fiddled with her skirt. "Would you mind if I asked you something?"

Holmes leant forward and rested his elbows on his knees, propping up his chin on his clasped hands. "Ask away, Miss Hooper," he said, even though he had an idea what she was about to ask.

"How did you persuade him to leave me alone?"

Holmes had not decided if he would tell her anything about his encounter with that creature. He was certain, however, that she would never find out that the wretch nearly killed him and that the younger Mr Salvatore threw his brother across the room and yelled at Holmes to leave. "I made a… deal with another individual that has a unique way of punishing brutes like him," he replied. "Why do you want to know?"

"I-it's so I will know what to do if he ever came back."

He sat back and nodded, placing his elbows on the armrests. "Fear not, Miss Hooper. I have ensured that he will never bother you again. Perhaps when more time has passed, we might discuss the details of your ordeal and its resolution. But, for now, your physical, emotional, and mental faculties need to heal completely. Then you would be well enough to interview with Dr Stamford at St Bartholomew's Hospital."

Molly's eyes widened, and she gasped in surprise. "Mr Holmes! You didn't have to do that!"

"It wasn't I who recommended you to Stamford; Watson did. Well, after speaking with your mother regarding your medical training, Mary Watson determined that St Bartholomew's would benefit most from your skills. And her husband wholeheartedly agreed with her, so it wasn't difficult to get an interview for you." He cleared his throat and winked at her. "I did mention to Mrs Watson _first_ that you would make an excellent coroner at St Bartholomew's."

Her eyes lit up, and she muffled her excited squeal with her hands. "Thank you so much, Mr Holmes! Oh, how could I ever repay you all for your generosity?"

His heart warmed when he saw how happy she was. "I suppose inviting us to a dinner party with your family would suffice."

Molly giggled. "Mr Holmes, would you, Dr Watson, Mrs Watson, and Mrs Hudson like to come to dinner tomorrow evening?"

"I would be delighted to dine here tomorrow evening. I will pass along your invitation, but I am sure their response would be the same."

"I'm glad to hear that, Mr Holmes," she replied, a becoming flush spreading across her cheeks.

"Splendid!" Holmes rose from his seat. "Forgive me, but I must leave now to catch the train back to London. I will dispatch a telegram once I have spoken to the Watsons and Mrs Hudson. Good day, Miss Hooper." He bowed to her.

"Good day, Mr Holmes," she replied with a curtsy.

Holmes swept from the parlour so Molly could not see the happy and relieved grin on his face.

* * *

 _In_ The Vampire Diaries _Season 1, Damon Salvatore used vampiric compulsion on Caroline Forbes so he could use her for his own sexual enjoyment, his nourishment (i.e. he drank her blood), and his selfish purposes._

 _Stefan Salvatore is Damon's younger brother._

 _So what do you think? Hate it? Like it? Love it?_


	3. Day 3

**DAY 3: UNDERCOVER CASES**

 **8 March 2016**

 **Summary:** **Sherlock and Molly go undercover as a writer/editor married couple to nail a publishing house CEO suspected of murdering his mistress.**

 **Prompt: Undercover Cases (Non-Canon/Headcanon)**

 **Rating: M, for mild smut and one F-bomb**

 **A/N: The idea for my first M-rated fic in a while came from an alternative bedsharing fic prompts post on Tumblr. And I based the hotel room layout on the deluxe guest room at Waldorf Astoria in NYC.**

 **I own nothing. Everything belongs to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, BBC, Steven Moffat, and Mark Gatiss. If I owned Sherlock and Molly Hooper, then there would be a lot more Sherlolly in the show. All mistakes are mine. Reviews and constructive criticism are welcome.**

* * *

Molly yawned as she closed the bathroom door of their hotel room. She raised her eyebrow when she saw a shirtless Sherlock reading the case files on her way to the bed. "Please don't sleep in your underwear. You're making this way weirder than it has to be."

He glanced up at her and knitted his eyebrows together. "Why should it be weird? We _are_ posing as a married couple. And I'm still wearing my boxers, aren't I?"

"So why is your shirt on the floor?" she asked as she joined him in bed. She softly cleared her throat when she glanced at his boxers. _Navy blue––the same shade as the_ _nightwear set_ _that he gave me_ , she thought as she lay down.

"Mr Cowell fancies you," he replied, making her grimace. "Now, according to Tania Rodriguez, he makes his 35-year-old son break into his prospective mistress's bedroom and takes photos of her sleeping. And it would be more believable if we made it look like we'd just shagged."

"Do I need to take off my top as well?" She flushed at the thought of baring her breasts to Sherlock even if it was only for a case.

"Actually, yes." He rolled his eyes when she frowned at him. "Molly, we did a great job with the 'writer/editor team' aspect earlier. He _really_ loved your _Agent Carter_ fan fiction. But––"

"But we need to nail the 'married couple' aspect, don't we?" she finished his sentence with a sigh.

"Yep," he confirmed, popping the 'p' like he always did. "We'll just have to wait until he's out of the room and then we can get dressed. But he has to see our clothes on the floor and our naked shoulders at least. I do need to remove my boxers, but you're welcome to keep your knickers on."

 _Oh, screw it._ Her heart thumping in her chest, she took a deep breath and closed her eyes before peeling off her navy lace cami and throwing it to the floor. Holding her breath, she also removed her matching pyjama shorts and flung the garment towards the foot of the bed. She released her breath and then flashed the speechless Sherlock a bashful smile as she turned off the lamp on her side. "Well, you mentioned that we're usually asleep by midnight, and it's 11.58," she explained as she pulled up the blanket to cover her chest.

He glanced at the alarm clock on his bedside table and stared ahead for a moment. "You're right." He gathered the case files and shoved them into their carry-on luggage that was on the armchair. Returning to the bed, he spun round and stripped off his boxers, which landed near his grey shirt. He turned to face her and swallowed.

 _This is not the time to get wet, Molly Hooper_ , she scolded herself. "Do you, uh, want to spoon?" Seeing him nod, she turned towards the window and backed into him. She gasped softly when her back made contact with his broad chest.

"Sorry," he whispered into her hair when his prick twitched against her thigh. He slowly wrapped his arm round her waist. "Molly, would you slap me if I cupped your breast?"

"Is that really necessary? I thought he only needs to see our naked shoulders," she whispered back.

"It would make it more realistic."

She paused to think about it, although the loud thumping in her chest made it difficult for her to concentrate. "All right," she muttered as she took his hand and guided it to her right breast.

They both gave a soft groan when he lightly kneaded her breast. "You know, it _is_ small, but it fits perfectly in my hand. Are your breasts usually this sensitive?"

She was about to respond when she heard someone fiddling with their hotel door. She shut her eyes and placed her hand over Sherlock's. She heard the door open and then the soft tread of trainers on the carpet. She listened to the unmistakable sounds of a smartphone camera shutter for a couple of minutes. She was drifting off to sleep when she heard the door open and close. She waited for the footsteps to recede down the corridor before she whirled round to face Sherlock. "What the fuck?" she hissed.

He gave her a sheepish smile. "I deliberately left my key card on the conference table for this exact purpose."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "It's _really_ creepy."

His hand rose to caress her face, and his eyes darted from her lips to her eyes. "I know," he whispered. His thumb moved to her lower lip. "Molly, could I… May I kiss you?"

She leant forward and captured his lips. Her hand rose to his neck, as she felt his tongue slide over her lips. She lightly scratched his scalp and tugged at his hair, earning her a loud groan of pleasure.

To her surprise and dismay, he pulled away from her. He inhaled sharply and shut his eyes. "I'm sorry. I-I can't be the man that you need and deserve. I can't––"

"But I only want _you_ , Sherlock. I love _you_." She swept her gaze along their nude bodies. "And I want this. Do you?"

"Oh, _God_ , yes," he replied, his voice husky with arousal.

Shimmying out of her knickers, she tossed it aside before kissing him hard on the mouth and reaching for his left butt cheek.

* * *

 _So what do you think? Hate it? Like it? Love it?_


	4. Day 4

**DAY 4: AUs OR CROSSOVERS**

 **9 March 2016**

 **Summary:** **Movie Star AU. Sherlock Holmes and Irene Adler, as well as their PAs and publicists, attend the London premiere of their film. (Sherlolly + Jarene & Warstan)**

 **Prompt: AUs or Crossovers (Non-Canon/Headcanon)**

 **Rating: T**

 **A/N: This is the Sherlolly/Jarene Movie Star AU that I've mentioned before on Tumblr. I just made it a little more Sherlolly and a little less Jarene. I also added a tiny bit of Warstan in this fic. Also part of my Secret Relationships are Fun! series.**

 **I own nothing. Everything belongs to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, BBC, Steven Moffat, and Mark Gatiss. If I owned Sherlock and Molly Hooper, then there would be a lot more Sherlolly in the show. All mistakes are mine. Reviews and constructive criticism are welcome.**

* * *

Sherlock smiled at the bespectacled young woman as he handed back her permanent marker and the photo that he just signed. "Thank you for coming! I hope you all enjoyed the film!" he shouted to the gathered fans as he waved at them.

He sauntered towards Irene's PA, Molly, who was chatting with his publicist, John, and his PA, Janine. Clearing his throat, he placed his hand on her upper back. "Take Janine and wait by the car," he spoke in a low voice. "The Watsons, Irene, and I will follow in a moment."

She looked up at him and smiled demurely. "Yes, Mr Holmes."

His heart raced faster when the glittering stone on Molly's ring brushed against the back of his hand on her way to the black limousine. He stuck his hands in his trouser pockets as he walked back towards Irene. "We need to go," he whispered to her.

Irene glanced at him and nodded. She turned to the fans. "We're very sorry, guys, but we have to go." She threw them a kiss and grinned. "Thank you so much for coming to the premiere! Take care and good night, everyone!" She waved their adoring fans goodbye.

Walking hand in hand towards the car, Sherlock smirked at their fans' reaction. "They really think we're dating, don't they?"

"They even gave us a couple nickname!" Irene laughed when he gave her a confused look. "They mashed our names together to create a name––'Sherene,' I believe––by which they call us."

"And how did you react when they told you the nickname?" he asked.

"Oh, I just laughed. Then I told them that you're a great kisser," Irene added with a wink as she slid into the car, following their publicists (who were also married to each other) and followed by Janine and Molly.

Laughing, Sherlock sat next to Molly. Once the car pulled out onto the road, he rolled up the tinted window on his side and removed a gold ring from his pocket. He smiled at Molly as he put it on his finger. He wrapped his arm round her waist and kissed her on the lips. "Are you all right?" he asked when they pulled apart.

She grinned at him. "Of course. A bit tired, but it's not a big deal."

"Do you want to skip the after-party?" he asked as he placed his hand on her belly.

"You're pregnant, Molls?"

Sherlock turned to the people sitting across them upon hearing Janine's voice. He smiled at John and Mary, who were too wrapped up in each other to notice the other four. He chuckled when he noted Irene and Janine's swollen lips and smudged lipstick, his co-star's hand on Janine's thigh, and the love bite on his PA's collarbone.

"Yeah," Molly answered, giggling and placing her hand over his. "I'm only in my first trimester, though, so we haven't actually told anyone."

"Oh, my God! Congratulations!" Janine covered her mouth to muffle her excited squeal.

Irene embraced Molly and planted a kiss on Sherlock's cheek. "Congratulations, my dearies."

"And congratulations to you as well." Sherlock nodded towards the gargantuan canary yellow diamond ring on his PA's finger.

Janine giggled as she glanced at her fiancée. "Thanks," the latter answered with a bright smile on her lips.

"You two are, of course, invited to the wedding."

Molly grinned at Irene. "Well, as your PA, I absolutely have to be there."

"We'd be honoured to witness your union. Have you set a date?" asked Sherlock.

"We're thinking of doing it on Irene's birthday weekend. You know, invite people to the party without telling them that it's going to be a wedding-slash-birthday party."

Sherlock nodded. "Don't you think celebrities are overusing that trick though? Paparazzi and gossip bloggers practically expect us to do that now."

Irene shrugged. "It works fine. As long as no one tattles to the press or on social media, of course. And it'll be a small affair, since only a handful of people know about our relationship." She took Janine's hand and smirked. "Hey, how would you two like to announce our marriage and Molly's pregnancy at the same time?"

"That's an excellent idea," Molly replied with a smile. "Thank you."

"Oh, the Sherene shippers will be devastated!" remarked Sherlock.

The partition rolled down to reveal Sally's face. "Sorry to interrupt, but we'll be at the hotel in a minute." She nodded at them before rolling up the partition again.

Sherlock tenderly kissed his wife on the lips. "Eat enough at the party, all right?" he reminded her. "And text me when you're ready to go home."

"Yes, I will." Molly gave him an affectionate smile. "I love you too."

Sherlock nodded at Molly and reluctantly slid his ring off his finger, just as the car stopped in front of the hotel. He replaced his ring in his trouser pocket before exiting the car.

* * *

 _Just in case it's confusing, Sherlock and Irene are the movie stars. And:_

 _\- Molly is Sherlock's wife and Irene's PA;_

 _\- Janine is Irene's fiancée and Sherlock's PA;_

 _\- John is Mary's husband and Sherlock's publicist;_

 _\- Mary is John's wife and Irene's publicist; and_

 _\- Sally is their bodyguard._

 _So what do you think? Hate it? Like it? Love it?_


	5. Day 5

**DAY 5: TEEN!LOCK OR UNI!LOCK**

 **10 March 2016**

 **Summary:** **Uni!lock. After getting kicked out by her roommate, Molly asks Sherlock if she could crash in his room.**

 **Prompt: Teen!Lock or Uni!Lock (Non-Canon/Headcanon)**

 **Rating: T, for references to sexual situations and some cursing**

 **A/N: My first uni!lock, this fic is based on the 'my roommate's boyfriend is staying over so can I please sleep on your floor' AU prompt.**

 **I own nothing. Everything belongs to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, BBC, Steven Moffat, and Mark Gatiss. If I owned Sherlock and Molly Hooper, then there would be a lot more Sherlolly in the show. All mistakes are mine. Reviews and constructive criticism are welcome.**

* * *

Clad in her skull-print pyjamas, Molly rapped on the door and took several deep breaths to calm her hammering heart. It had been a few weeks since she sneaked out of this room, and she had barely seen one of its occupants since then. She did not know if he would talk to her, let alone allow her to sleep either in his or his roommate's bed.

She knitted her eyebrows together when she received no response. _That's weird_ , she thought. _The light is on, and I can hear violin music._ She softly groaned in impatience and rapped more insistently.

"Go away!"

 _Shit_ , she thought. _He's still mad at me, isn't he?_ She raised her fist, ready to knock once more. "Sherlock, it's Molly. Could you…"

The door swung open, and a scruffy Sherlock appeared before she could finish her request. His gaze swept over her, making her feel a little self-conscious. "Molly," he uttered.

She dropped her arm and swallowed. "H-hi, Sherlock."

"Victor and Janine kicked you out of your room, didn't they?"

She nodded. "Could I sleep in your room? I-I'll take Victor's bed, if you want."

"Come in then." Staring at her, he moved aside to let her in. "I'm afraid Victor left his bed unmade. I believe I even saw ants crawling on his duvet."

She giggled at his joke. _Or at least I hope it's a joke._ She looked up once she was inside and glanced at the messy bed on the other side of the room. "I'm surprised he could sleep in his bed with all the ants and other creepy-crawlies in it."

He chuckled as he turned off the stereo. "He doesn't. When he does sleep, he's usually in his conquest's bed."

She turned to him and wondered how he could still be the most beautiful man she had ever met despite his wild curls, three-week-old beard, ratty grey T-shirt, and blue pyjama bottoms. Even now, when she was trying her best to forget, she could still remember how gorgeous he looked naked, how he tasted, and how he felt against her skin. Then he muttered a name that was not hers in his sleep, so she sneaked out of the room and cried herself to sleep.

She cleared her throat and fiddled with the hem of her pyjama top. "I hope I didn't disturb you. It's just I don't have a lot of friends here, and I had nowhere else to go when they kicked me out. I'd rather not sleep in the common room."

"Oh, it's no problem at all. I was just in my mind palace." He lowered himself to the desk chair and folded his arms across his chest. "I've been figuring things out."

She sat at the foot of his bed, which was remarkably tidier than his roommate's and closer to the desk. "What were you trying to figure out?"

He stared at her so intensely that she lowered her eyes. " _You._ "

She looked up again at his answer. "M-me?"

"Yes. You woke me when you got out of bed that night, you know? I didn't open my eyes, but I _knew_ that you'd left. I couldn't fathom why you'd leave without saying goodbye after that amazing night and then avoid me." His calm voice belied the pain in his eyes. "The worst part is… I didn't know why I _cared_."

She tentatively reached for his hand and squeezed it. "I'm sorry, Sherlock. I didn't know that my leaving would affect you like this."

"Did I do something wrong? Did I not satisfy you?"

She shook her head. "No, you really didn't do anything wrong. In fact, you were marvellous." She caressed his face with her free hand. "But you muttered, 'Irene, I love you,' in your sleep, and it hurt me. I thought you were just with me because she couldn't be with you or something. And I didn't want to cry and wake you, so I just left." She took a deep breath. "Who's Irene?"

He sighed. "You don't have to worry about her. She's in the past and you're…" He reached for her and kissed her. "You're firmly in my present." He kissed her more passionately. "God, I've missed you," he muttered before he laid her down and covered her body with his.

Later, she lay sated, as he spooned her in the dark. "Would you freak out if I said that I really like you?" she whispered.

"No, not at all. I'd be thrilled, actually, since I feel the same way," he replied. He cleared his throat. "Do you want to skip your neurobiology class tomorrow? We can just stay in bed and make up for lost time."

But, before she could respond, the door creaked open, making her raise her eyebrow and wonder what he could have done for her roommate to kick him out.

"Sod off, Trevor!" Sherlock yelled, causing her to giggle.

"You're a prick, Holmes!" Victor answered irritably before slamming the door close.

With a smile on her face, Molly soon fell asleep in Sherlock's arms.

* * *

 _I neither went to a UK university nor stayed in campus housing while in college, so please forgive the errors and inconsistencies. :)_

 _So what do you think? Hate it? Like it? Love it?_


	6. Day 6

**DAY 6: WHAT HAPPENED DURING THE TWO YEARS SHERLOCK WAS DEAD**

 **11 March 2016**

 **Summary:** **While using Molly's flat as a bolthole post-Reichenbach, Sherlock discovers her new hobby.**

 **Prompt: What Happened During the Two Years Sherlock Was Dead (Non-Canon/Headcanon)**

 **Rating: T**

 **A/N: This fic is based on the following AU prompt from the otpprompts Tumblr:**

 **'Imagine person A of your OTP being an artist and drawing pictures of person B and hiding them in a drawer. Person B discovers them and person A is really embarrassed.'**

 **I own nothing. Everything belongs to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, BBC, Steven Moffat, and Mark Gatiss. If I owned Sherlock and Molly Hooper, then there would be a lot more Sherlolly in the show. All mistakes are mine. Reviews and constructive criticism are welcome.**

* * *

Sherlock woke from his nap and slowly rose from Molly's bed. He ambled towards the kitchen and surveyed the contents of the fridge. After warming up two slices of pizza, he brought the plate, a glass of water, and a couple of paper towels to the sitting room. Parking himself on the couch, he bit into the pizza and wished his pathologist were home.

"How are you, Toby?" he asked the feline when it joined him on the couch. "Have you been taking care of your mistress?" He chuckled when it only meowed at him.

As he finished the first slice, his gaze landed on a couple of spiral-bound A4 notebooks that he had never seen before. Setting the plate on the table, he stood and walked towards the bookshelf. He knitted his eyebrows together as he took one of the notebooks and inspected it. _Sketchbook, purchased about six months ago on Amazon_ , he observed. He read the label on the inside front cover. _Taking art courses now, eh, Molly?_ He flipped to the first page, and his jaw dropped. "Oh," he uttered after a few beats.

He gazed at the fairly decent sketch of a curly, dark-haired man's profile. The subject's prominent cheekbones, patrician nose, and Cupid's bow lips were highlighted. Even the mole was perfectly placed on the man's neck.

He thumbed through the sketchbook and noted the steady improvement in Molly's skills. She clearly had a keen eye for details. She also liked to draw Toby, her flat, the morgue, lab equipment (notably, his preferred microscope), her mother, Meena, Donovan, Lestrade, Mrs Hudson, John, and himself. But he could tell that _he_ was her favourite subject.

He took the other sketchbook and carried both to the couch. Flipping through the drawings, he pulled out his mobile and took photos of his favourite pieces. He would store them in his mind palace on his way to Paris later.

He lingered over the last sketch, in which his likeness sat still with his clasped hands underneath his chin. He marvelled at Molly's skill in accurately and lovingly depicting him. _If I told her that I adore this drawing, would she let me keep it?_

He turned towards the front door when it opened. Smiling, he waited until she could see him before he spoke. "How on earth could you remember me _so_ clearly and perfectly when we hadn't seen each other in a year?" he asked, rolling his eyes at her shocked gasp.

"Sherlock! What the hell are you doing here?" She hurried towards him and sat next to him, her brown eyes wide in surprise and disbelief. Her brief hug made him realise how much he really missed her.

"Oh, I'd finished a job ahead of schedule, and Mycroft offered me a chance to recharge my batteries while he's taking care of some paperwork. So I sneaked in a couple of hours ago and took a nap in your bed." He gestured towards his now-cold pizza. "And I was eating a slice when I discovered your sketchbooks." He grinned at her. "Speaking of which, since when did you become an artist, Molly?"

"Wait a minute––how have you been, Sherlock?" Her concern was evident on her face, as her eyes swept over him. "Are you eating? Are you sleeping?"

"I'm fine. Oh, I hope you don't mind that I slept in your bed and ate your food."

"I don't really mind. I'm just glad that you're taking care of yourself." She took a deep breath before smiling at him. "Anyway, I enrolled in art courses to distract myself from the guilt and worry. As you've seen, I've gotten quite good at it."

 _Guilt? From keeping my secret?_ His chest tightened, and he swallowed hard. He cleared his throat. "Yes, I can see that you've got some artistic talent. Honestly, Molly, your attention to detail is impressive."

She flushed. "Well, thinking about you every day helps. Also, I use photos and news clips on YouTube as references." Smiling, she cleared her throat, her eyes darting between him and her sketch. "Do you like them?"

"Yes, I actually do. I have several favourites, to be quite honest," he admitted with a chuckle. He tapped the drawing with his phone. "This, I have to say, will be blown up, framed, and installed at the centre of your room in my mind palace."

She lowered her head to hide the colour spreading across her cheeks. "Thanks, Sherlock. I, uh, took a photo of you when you spent the night with me after we faked your death." She stared at him for a moment. "Would you like to keep that sketch?"

"You know, I was thinking about that just before you came home." He glanced at his watch. "But since we still have six hours to kill, we have more than enough time to shag, take a warm bath together, and…" He trailed off and turned his puppy-dog eyes on her.

Giggling, she kissed him on the lips. "Sherlock, would you like me to draw you?"

He grinned as he set the sketchbooks next to his plate on the coffee table. He rose from the couch and offered his hand to her. "Bath first?"

Smiling, Molly took his hand and led the way to her bathroom.

* * *

 _In my headcanon for this fic, Sherlock and Molly slept together before he left to dismantle Moriarty's network._

 _So what do you think? Hate it? Like it? Love it?_


	7. Day 7

**DAY 7: FREE CHOICE**

 **12 March 2016**

 **Summary:** **Sherlock tells Molly that he loves her for the first time.**

 **Prompt: Free Choice (Non-Canon/Headcanon)**

 **Rating: T, for references to sexual situations**

 **A/N: This fic is based on the following AU prompt from the otpprompts Tumblr:**

' **Imagine person A lightly tracing "I love you" over and over again on person B's back, assuming that person B is asleep. When person A is lying on their back, getting ready to sleep, person B moves closer and wraps their arms around person A, whispering softly, "I love you too." Bonus if that's the first time person A has ever declared their love for person B.'**

 **I own nothing. Everything belongs to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, BBC, Steven Moffat, and Mark Gatiss. If I owned Sherlock and Molly Hooper, then there would be a lot more Sherlolly in the show. All mistakes are mine. Reviews and constructive criticism are welcome.**

* * *

Molly roused from her sleep when the mattress dipped. She shut her eyes as Sherlock's hand ran across her bare back. She fought the urge to smile when he planted a kiss on her shoulder.

His mobile buzzed, and she heard him unlock his phone. She raised her eyebrow when she heard him softly groan in annoyance. Listening to the keyboard clicks, she wondered why he was not getting up and getting dressed like she expected, especially if that was Greg telling him about a case.

To her surprise, she only heard a soft thud as he replaced his phone on the bedside table and the creak of the bed as he rolled over. She bit her lower lip to prevent her from moaning when the hand curling round her waist sent shivers down her spine and made her throb.

"Goodnight, my Molly," he whispered before he tenderly kissed her neck.

She was drifting off back to sleep when she felt his finger touch her back. She raised her eyebrow again when he began tracing patterns on her skin. At first, it felt like he was tracing her name, nearly making her break into a grin. Then he began tracing other letters, causing her to open her eyes and bite down on her lip to stop her from gasping.

 _I LOVE YOU._

She waited with bated breath as he traced more letters on her skin. Her full name made her smile for a moment. 'Sherlock Hooper' almost caused her to giggle. 'Molly Holmes' and 'Molly Hooper-Holmes' made her desire him again. But she was happiest when he traced _those words_.

And he always went back to tracing 'I love you'––which surprised her and warmed her heart, because he had _never_ told her those words. She had said them many times, but he had smiled at her, thanked her, or kissed her in response. It had always been fine with her, because he showed his love in his eyes, his touch, his kisses, his concern, his compliments, and his protection. She knew that he loved her, even if he had never uttered those words.

Now she wondered if he had been tracing 'I love you' on her skin while she slept. Did he trace those words on her limbs, her back, her belly, or her breasts while she lay in slumber? Had he licked words and patterns on her body while she rested after he made her gasp with his tongue between her legs? Did he do it even when she was clothed?

She felt his finger slowly trace 'I love you' before he reached over to kiss her on the cheek. She heard the bed creak as he moved, perhaps to lie back, and ran his hand up and down her back. When he removed his hand, she rolled over to face him and wrapped her arm round his waist.

"I love you too," she whispered as she laid her head on his shoulder.

Chuckling, he snaked his arm under her and pulled her close. "I _knew_ you were awake," he whispered back.

"I _knew_ that you knew. I was just waiting for you to lick 'I love you' on my back. I'm really disappointed that you didn't."

"I was going to, but I decided against it. Otherwise, it would've led to more licking and another round of lovemaking. And I need you completely rested for your double shift in the afternoon, since Lestrade might have a case for me later."

"And because you'll insist to send the body or samples to Barts?"

"Of course. I trust no one else to perform post-mortems and process samples. You're the only one that treats them with so much care and compassion." He smiled at her, making her giggle and blush.

"I'm probably not the only one. I do know that I'm the only one that _talks_ to the cadavers."

"And sing! Don't forget that I caught you singing to Mr McGarrett," he teased.

"Well, he was really pretty, even at 84," she retorted.

"He was dead!"

She lifted her head and gave him an incredulous stare, his grumpy pout amusing her. "You can't _possibly_ be jealous of a dead 84-year-old man."

He rolled his eyes. "I'm not! It's just the woman I _love_ would rather sing to a cadaver than to her significant other."

She laughed. "I'll sing to you when you call round at work. How's that?"

He nodded before kissing her. "Thank you."

She smirked as she laid her head on his shoulder. "Goodnight, Sherlock Hooper."

"Goodnight, Molly Holmes," he replied with a chuckle.

* * *

 _So what do you think? Hate it? Like it? Love it?_


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